Smoke em while you got em

I want to secure my hope. Tether it to facts and action-whatever works for the day to stave off the panic. Research the shit out of it and do every single thing I can to help him live.

But the truth is, me pushing every last supplement down Phoenix's throat does not guarantee any bit of saving from pain.

It keeps him aware he is sick, and the hovering high-pitched spirit I do it in communicates that I am NOT OK and because I am NOT OK, I cannot let him be OK.